


A Quiet Sort of Intimacy

by mandysimo13



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, but also super embarrassed, erotic tenderness, hannibal can be a gentle soul, playful banter, pre slash, will's hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandysimo13/pseuds/mandysimo13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt from notoriousfish: "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quiet Sort of Intimacy

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed,” Will asked, looking down at his bed, his refuge that wasn’t really a refuge, with the deepest confusion. There, sitting with legs crossed at the ankle and body elongated in lazy repose as he tapped and scrolled away on his phone, was Hannibal. His therapist that was not really his therapist laying on his bed that rarely saw the true sleep or passion that beds usually saw. The sight made his mouth parch.

“Your mongrel,” Hannibal growled with a frown and pointed to Winston, “had the inclination to urinate all over my the leg of my pants.” He grimaced at the dog who showed no sign of remorse. In fact, Winston seemed to smile as he sat there next to will with panting mouth and the happy squintiness of contentedness dogs usually had.

Will coughed into his hand and walked towards his kitchen to pour a finger of whiskey. He absolutely could not continue to have a naked Hannibal in his house without a measure of fortitude. “That doesn’t explain why you’re still here. In my bed. With your naked bits all over my sheets.”

After pouring a glass for himself he made a move to return to his bedroom but then, remembering that no guest in Hannibal’s house ever wanted for a drink, thought better of it and poured a glass for Hannibal as well. Upon reentry into his room he asked, “where are your clothes anyway?”

Hannibal took the glass offered to him and sniffed it. Deeming it to be of at least tolerable quality he wet his lips with it before speaking. “In your washing machine.”

Electing to take the chair next to the bed rather than joining him in it, Will said, “you could have borrowed a pair of pajama pants or something.” He took a sip to calm his racing pulse, telling himself the clamminess of his palm was just condensation on the glass.

“Seemed rude to borrow your clothes without permission,” Hannibal said simply.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised that borrowing clothes was rude but commandeering a bed was not, and asked further, “did they happen to urinate on your shirt as well?”

Hannibal shook his head and pointed to the pitbull mix Will had named Bruiser (a joke he deemed funny at the time) and said, “that one jumped up on my chest and put his filthy paws all over my shirt.” He took a deep sip of the whiskey and told Will with no small amount of frustration. “Your dogs are not as well trained as you have boasted, Will.”

Will smirked and chuckled before taking a sip of his own glass. Both Winston and Bruiser sat at his feet, panting happily and weighing down his feet. “They were just excited for visitors,” he defended. “Besides Alana my poor pubs don’t get much company.” He reached his free hand down to scratch Winston behind the ears.

“Filthy creatures,” Hannibal scoffed.

“Creatures who live here whereas you, Hannibal, do not,” Will pointed out. He drained his glass and set it on the dresser next to him. “So, now that we’ve sussed out why you’re naked in my bed,” he leaned forward and clasped his hands in his lap, “care to explain why you’re here in the first place?"

“Alana couldn’t make it to walk your beasts,” Hannibal answered smoothly. “She asked me to do the job for her, despite my obvious distaste for them.” He scowled at Will, “though I don’t see why it was necessary for either of us to walk them at all seeing as how you’re here.”

Will shrugged, “my class let out early. I didn’t know Alana had called you to check in on the gang.” He smiled at the pack of dogs that had all positioned themselves near their master. They all sat quietly, patiently and expectant. He flicked his gaze to Hannibal and asked, “did they ever get outside? Clearly Winston had a full bladder but I don’t hear any whining from the rest of them.”

Hannibal nodded. “I let the whole lot of them outside while I tried to clean the mud from my shirt. It was no use, it needed washing before stains could set in.” He scowled at Bruiser again and said, “Lord knows where those paws have been.”

Will laughed, “undoubtedly digging around for all manner of disgusting things in the field and forest behind the house.” He patted Bruiser’s head, the dog’s mouth falling open in a doggy smile, eyes closed in bliss at the attention. “Isn’t that right, Bruiser.”

“You talk to them like they’re people. Like they understand anything of what you’re saying,” Hannibal observed.

“That would be because they do understand. Some things anyway. They all know their basic commands,” he ticked off on his fingers, “sit, stay, outside, no, play dead,” he smiled at that last one. “They understand tone more than anything else. If you smile and put on an air of peace and tranquility they’ll follow suit. If you’re a grump,” he flashed his smiling eyes at Hannibal, forgetting for a moment that he was naked in his bed, “then they’ll understand something is wrong and react accordingly. It’s not that out there of a concept.”

They heard the buzzer for the washing machine sound the end of its cycle and its readiness for a swap in loads. Both men’s attention was drawn to the washing room, heads turned in the machine’s direction. Hannibal made a move to get up and Will held out a hand to stop him. “Let me.”

“Gentle on the drying,” Hannibal ordered. “I refuse to walk out of this pound with wrinkles on my shirt.”

Will rolled his eyes as he left the bedroom.

Even though Hannibal had confessed to using his washing machine he was still shocked not to find a fine, three piece suit tumbling around in the machine. It was ridiculous to expect such a thing, suits like that required the care of a good dry cleaner. Instead of his usual fare Hannibal had elected to wear a pair of casual, but still rather posh, khakis and a bright orange sweater. The clothes were about as casual as Will had ever seen him wear. Or, rather, not wear. The fact that he had stumbled upon Hannibal naked and not draped in his casual, but still unmistakably stylish, clothes, drew his mind’s eye back to the bed.

He didn’t want to feel the flutter in his stomach, the nerves quivering in anticipation of…

What were they anticipating? Surely nothing was to come of the situation. Once Hannibal’s clothes were dry he would be gone again, right? He never would agree to a roll in his sheets, the ones his unclothed body was occupying. Will had only just recently admitted to himself, after months of denial, that the sophisticated man did something for him. The warm smile of his face hiding something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Even when he radiated friendliness and an air of “trust me”, Will found his gut twisting with warring instinct. There was something dangerous about him but the walls that Hannibal shrouded himself in were impenetrable on that front. But he couldn’t deny that whenever Hannibal walked too close or when his gaze lingered too long Will’s body warmed in response.

He needed another drink.

He went to retrieve their now empty glasses and remarked, “your clothes are more casual than usual. Did you anticipate getting dirty with my dogs today?”

Hannibal scoffed. “Dogs are dirty animals. It would be inevitable.” His eyes scanned the pack in front of them. “Besides, their air and odor lingers everywhere. I would never subject my suits to such treatment.”

Will laughed. “Now who’s treating things like people? At least dogs are living things.”

Hannibal shrugged and said nothing in defense of his suits.

Will left momentarily and came back with their glasses refreshed. When handing over the glass he resolutely averted his eyes from the expanse of skin and -surprisingly toned- muscle in front of him. Resettled in his chair, Will closed his eyes and sipped the warming, amber liquid.

“You have studiously kept your eyes away from everything but my face, Will. Are you embarrassed by my nakedness,” Hannibal asked without any shame.

Will swallowed thickly. He was embarrassed but Hannibal didn’t need to know that. “My parents always told me it was impolite to stare.” He took another sip and followed it up with, “right after telling me ‘if you have nothing nice to say don’t say anything’.”

Hannibal chuckled. “Well, you seemed to have forgotten that lesson. You often say things that are not so nice.”

Will smiled at the correctness of the statement. “Comes with the job, I’m afraid.”

Hannibal nodded. “Indeed.” He set his glass to the side, hardly touched this time and placed his hands palm side down on his sheets. “Forget the second lesson, Will. I do not mind in the slightest if you did look.”

Will nearly choked on his tongue. Steadying his breath, hardly trusting his voice to be even, he cleared his throat and asked, “you would not find that rude?”

Hannibal shrugged nonchalantly. “It seems only fair, seeing as I am in your home, in your bed, without my clothes. Why shouldn’t you look?”

Will fought the urge to lick his dry lips, nervousness suddenly ramped up to eleven. He couldn’t come up with a good reason. He could say “friends don’t look at each other naked” but they weren’t exactly friends. There was always the excuse of unprofessionalism but there, too, there was no excuse as they were not officially in a doctor/patient relationship. More than acquaintances but less than friends, work related but not official, their “relationship” was one of gray areas and undefined lines. Why shouldn’t he look?

After a long moment of staring at Hannibal’s nose, eyes still saw too much for him to be comfortable staring into them for any length, he came to the decision. There was no reason not to look.

He let his eyes travel slowly, staring from Hannibal’s hairline. The sandy, greying hair slightly disheveled from the mussing Hannibal gave it when he undressed. The eyebrows beneath his hairline were perfectly groomed and matched his hair. Hannibal’s maroon eyes stared back into them and when they locked eyes momentarily Will felt an electric sizzle zing through him and made him involuntarily shiver. He moved quickly down the length of his thin, regal nose to his thin but still satisfyingly colored mouth. The pigment deep despite the paler complexion of the rest of his skin. Will’s eyes slid from Hannibal’s lips, cascading like a waterfall over the hairless skin and jawline down his neck to more deadly waters.

His collarbones were just barely defined, little ridges that protruded from the solid muscle beneath. His eyes ate up the sparse but dark colored chest hair and the dusky colored nipple, his breath leaving him when he noticed their perkiness. _Don’t get overexcited,_ he chided himself. _It was chilly, their erect nature was probably due to the temperature of the room and not your attention to them,_ he reasoned with a small measure of disappointment. He followed the trail of hair that tapered to leave ribs and plain of stomach muscles. His stomach pudged slightly from age and the angle of his body but Will knew there was strength there. He had seen it in the way he moved, the way he held his body. He likened him to a boxer, tightly coiled strength ready to be sprung when the need came. He fingers twitched, itching to trace the grooves of muscle and skin of his torso. To pick up the trail of hair that returned just above where his waistband would normally have sat.

There, where a belt and several layers of fabric should have been, is where he needed to close his eyes and compose himself a moment. It was no more than a heartbeat, a second, a quick, stabilizing breath. But it was enough for Hannibal to notice his reluctance. When Will opened his eyes again from his just slightly longer than standard blink he flicked his eyes back up to Hannibal for a moment, finding an amused smirk on his face that said _keep going, you’ve come too far to back out now. Might as well finish._ Will had never given much credence to self preservation. Even if his attachment to life, homeostasis in general, was higher than average, despite the odds.

He gingerly, if a gaze could be described as “gingerly”, took in the piece of anatomy that he had so purposefully avoided until now. There, resting against the curve of Hannibal’s hip, was a semi-erect, dusky-pink cock. Hannibal’s cock. His mouth watered with intense want and Will swallowed against it. If Hannibal was teasing him, dangling a steak over a starving dog, he would be sorely upset. But then, under the force of his attention, Hannibal’s cock twitched ever-so-slightly, and filled a measure more.

Will’s eyes widened, mouth parting slightly in surprise, lungs contracting with sudden intake of oxygen. He felt lightheaded. He couldn’t stop staring. The force was gravitational. Inevitable. Like staring a a car wreck as you drove on the highway. Necessary to look, impossible to look away, imperative to look away before causing another accident for others to stare at.

With a great mental wrench, his forced his eyes to move down and away from the object of most of his attention down to Hannibal’s thighs. The thick, muscular thighs that spoke of long runs and intense activity. He wondered how often Hannibal worked out, if he ran for fun or for the ease of calorie burning in a city. He wondered if he ever biked or if he was indeed the boxer he had associated his body with. He would make it a point to ask, for curiosity’s sake if nothing else. Moving further downwards his looked at the man’s knees. Nothing spectacular about them, knobbly like everyone else’s. His shins and calves, comfortably stretched out leading him down to the feet that were normally encased in expensive, well cobbled shoes. No doubt, handmade shoes. Pretentious ass, that Hannibal was.

God, he wished he could see his ass.

Mourning the inopportunity of not being able to traverse Hannibal’s back and ass the way he wanted to he ended his visual inspection with another tentative look at Hannibal’s eyes. He dreaded what he would find there.

At the connection of their eyes the same electric crackle caused rampant static to travel the length of his nerves, deeper than before. Every synapse fired and drew his mental attention to the fact that he was aroused, fully hard in his constrictive jeans and he all at once felt shame, arousal, want and disgust with himself. He was invited to look, not touch. His traitorous body ran miles ahead of the situation and into an entire plane of existence that hadn’t been possible.

He closed his eyes against the onslaught of feeling and took a deep swallow of the whiskey without tasting it. “What did you see, Will? Why do you hide inside a glass? Am I that unfortunate looking that you need to balm the view with alcohol?”

Panic stabbed Will’s heart and pushed the air from his lungs. His embarrassed reaction had seemed like disgust with Hannibal instead of himself. He spoke quickly to dissuade him of the idea. “No!” His wide, fearful eyes found Hannibal’s and he tried to pour truth in them. “That’s not it at all.”

He found Hannibal smiling and said, “I was just teasing, Will.” He crossed his arms, chuffed at Will’s panicked reaction. “I can see quite clearly, from the flush of your skin and the tightness of a certain article of clothing, that you are appreciative of what you see.”

Trying to cover his want with sarcasm he asked, “aren’t most people when they see you?”

“We are not talking about other people. We are talking about you.” He smiled fondly and said, “I’m pleased to see you enjoy my body. That you like what you see. If you’ve noticed, I am similarly affected.”

Will’s eyes flicked unbidden to Hannibal’s cock to see it fully filled with blood, erect but still laying in the curve of Hannibal’s hip, gravity working upon the organ. Will licked his lips unconsciously and turned unseeing eyes back to Hannibal’s face. He said nothing, the tension in the silent room thick. Noticing the unaccustomed silence he looked about the rest of the room and found it empty of dogs. Sometime during his appraisal of Hannibal’s body his gang of furred companions had left him on his own to deal with a situation he had no control of. _Bastards_ , he groused internally.

He turned back to Hannibal and kept silent. Hannibal took the cue to break the silence.

“I take back what I said about your dogs, Will.”

“Oh?”

“They’re not as rude as I originally thought. They elected to give us some privacy.”

Will swallowed dryly. “Privacy for what?”

He wasn’t sure exactly what would come next and he dared not make hopeful assumptions. Rather than answering Hannibal just held out his hand, a silent request for Will to join him. Acutely aware of his fully dressed body, down to his shoed feet, Will rose. He toed off the shoes, and walked the few steps needed to take Hannibal’s hand. The doctor slid over to the cool side of the bed, making space for Will to enter it. Still cautious, Will elected to kneel on the still warm space of the duvet, eyes focused on Hannibal’s nose instead of his eyes. He was always disappointed when he looked into people’s eyes. But that lightning shock that came with Hannibal’s gaze had shocked him so much that he was uncertain he was ready for another dose. Safer to avert his eyes instead.

“Close your eyes, Will,” Hannibal instructed. He did as requested and waited, feeling the tension in the room coil around the two of them, pulling everything tight in anticipation.

He should have expected the soft pressure on his lips. But he had never dared to hope that his desire was returned. Their dance around each other, the undefined boundaries that surrounded them in their acquaintanceship, had left enough room to hope but not enough to make it tangible. So when Hannibal’s met Will’s his eyes flew open in shock.

Hannibal pulled away just enough to whisper against Will’s lips, “do not think about the grey areas. Just fall into the stream. Close your eyes and let everything else slide away.” He hand reached up to caress Will’s cheek. “Everything but this.” Hannibal kissed him again, pressing harder than before to drive the concept home.

A whimper, a gasp of hot air, escaped him and prompted his lips to part enough in an invitation he didn’t know he was sending. Hannibal took it without shame and licked gently but insistently into Will’s mouth. The first tangle of their tongues, the first mingling of their tastes was all it took for Will to finally sink into the stream of tactile feeling and allow it to wash over him. He melted into Hannibal, hands finding purchase on the smooth hardness of the doctor’s shoulders. Hannibal’s free hand curved around Will’s still clothed hip possessively and he deepened their kiss.

By the time the dryer’s buzzer went off, signalling to them that Hannibal’s clothes were dried and ready to be put back on, Will found himself on his back, Hannibal’s hand caressing his chest through the open part of his button down. The shrill beeping pulled him sharply from the stream and his body convulsed with surprise. Hannibal chuckled at him and said, “it’ll keep. Back into the stream.”

Will listened and let himself fall back into the stream.


End file.
